


I've hung my happiness upon what it all could be

by margosfairyeye (Skittery)



Series: Michael Guerin Week 2020 [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Lost Decade (Roswell New Mexico), M/M, Michael Guerin Week 2020, Possibly Unrequited Love, Teenagers, alcohol mention, but just barely since it's summer 2008, everyone is trying their best but they're all terrible to each other, non explicit mental health issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittery/pseuds/margosfairyeye
Summary: Teenage Michael wants to tell Alex his secret, but it doesn't go as planned.-- --Fic prompt: “There’s something you should know…”Day 2 of Michael Guerin Week 2020
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Michael Guerin Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928218
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	I've hung my happiness upon what it all could be

**Author's Note:**

> cw: very minor alcohol mention
> 
> \-- --
> 
> Fic prompt: “There’s something you should know…”

“I’m gonna tell him.” Michael said it firmly, like they couldn’t argue. Max and Isobel stared at him with equal but opposing looks of anger. 

“No you’re not,” Isobel said, taking a sip of her vitamin water. Michael swallowed the eye roll bursting to come out of him. They were all coping with things differently: Isobel was turning into the perfect wasp-y daughter her parents had always wanted her to be, Max was lining his life with rules, and Michael was trying desperately to find something to make himself feel good for even just a moment. And, some might argue, ruining his life in the process.

“You’re not,” Max affirmed, giving Michael one of his important, holier-than-thou looks. Like Michael couldn’t make this decision for himself, after all he’s already given up for them. 

“It’s not your decision,” he insisted, “and I’ve already made up my mind. I’m just letting you know as a courtesy.” 

“You can’t tell a human.” Isobel whispered the word human like it was a slur. “Especially now. We made this decision as a group, remember?” 

“This isn’t some random guy, this is...it’s important.”

“Oh, it’s important? Michael, our own parents don’t know the truth. You know that keeping our true selves a secret is the most important thing. You know that.”

Michael sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He flexed his ruined hand, wincing at the pain of the stretch. 

He wanted to tell Alex, every flash of pain in his damn hand felt like a reminder that he wanted to tell Alex, wanted to be honest about something in his life. They’d been drifting apart, Michael knew that, and he knew why, knew that it was his fault, his failings. Everything was going wrong—Michael didn’t have Max anymore, he didn’t have school, he didn’t have a future at all, and he had this guilt, this fear, sitting in his stomach all the time, not to mention his hand, and now it seemed like he didn’t have Alex either; he was going to just be another deadbeat cowboy without a future and with a regular booth at the bar, all the admittedly sparse love he thought he’d found would be gone. He couldn’t lose Alex, he needed that quiet, he needed to be able to feel the way he did when Alex looked at him, like he mattered. 

What he needed was to close the widening distance, and he couldn’t very well tell the truth about why he’d been so distant, and angry, and lost. The less pressing truth—albeit maybe the bigger truth—would have to be enough, enough to prove that Michael cared, that he didn’t want a summer thing, that he couldn’t let go. He just needed someone to know him. And he wanted it to be Alex.

Plus, he’d been learning to play the guitar backwards, strumming with his mind, a pick floating in front of the strings as he felt out the chords with his right hand. The guitar he had in his possession was stolen, of course, which wouldn’t be great to lead with, but the trick was fun, and he thought once they got past the initial shock of it, Alex would like it. And Michael desperately needed something about himself for Alex to like. 

“Do we need to remind you what happened when you lost control? You want to risk everything and for what?” Isobel was really growing into her adopted family, her tone straight out of Mrs. Evans’s playbook. “Some boy who’s too much of a secret to tell us his name? Who you won’t even talk to in a few months?” 

Michael bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. 

Isobel’s phone rang and she got up to answer it, shooting Michael a parting look that he only forgave because it was her. 

“She’s right, though,” Max said quietly. “You can’t tell him.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“What happens when he leaves for college?” Max pressed. “What happens when you move on and he still knows? Every scenario ends with us on a specimen table. You can’t tell him.”

Michael sagged as he stood, the weight of the conversation adding to everything else. It was all too much. “I know.” Max nodded, like that was it, done, decided; and Michael threw one last hail Mary pass to the wind. “What if it was Liz? Wouldn’t you want to tell her, if it would save you from losing her?”

Max frowned, and Michael could tell he’d fucked up, hit a nerve that was too deep, and that he should have left well alone. And it wasn’t the same, not at all, because Liz was gone and Alex wasn’t. Because Max could get up and go to work and live his life, and Michael could only see the edge of the cliff getting closer and closer. 

“No.” Max said, firmly. “We can’t tell anyone. This is a family thing, Michael. It’s not a card you can play. It’s our lives.” 

“Yeah.” There was no sense arguing, they would never understand what his life was, not when their own experience was so damn rosy, and they would never understand why he had to do this. Why he needed there to be something true in his life right now, something good. This hadn’t gone the way he wanted, but Max and Isobel never even had to know if he told Alex—Michael was sure that Alex wouldn’t tell anyone, wouldn’t betray him. 

“You wanna stay for dinner?” Isobel asked, coming back over, her stance softening as she took in the tight shield of Michael’s body. “Mom’s making a casserole.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Michael shook his head and started backing up towards his truck. He hated feeling like a charity case, hated the look in both of their eyes, the one they’d developed to hide their pity, like Michael couldn’t still see through that. “Later.”

Inside the protection of his truck, Michael leaned his head back against the headrest and sighed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but somehow he thought they’d understand, he thought they’d see how important this was, how close Michael was to drowning. Unwittingly, he’d gone from the black sheep to the clean-up crew, the person they would only listen to when something bad was happening, something they judged important, and every other moment he was just a disappointment, the hothead who fucked it all up. And he didn’t have to put up with that, not when there was still someone else out there who did want him around, who did give a fuck. 

Michael put the truck into gear and drove towards the UFO Emporium. Alex was still working, which was good, since Michael was probably the only one of anyone who didn’t have a cell phone, and even if he did, there was such a high chance of Alex’s dad monitoring his cell phone that Michael would never have been able to call or text it anyway. 

There wasn’t a line, there was never a line, and Michael stepped up to the window apprehensively. “Can you come by, later? I’ve got something to show you.”

Alex looked up quickly, reacting to Michael’s voice, and then looked around quickly, scanning like he thought someone would be watching. “Yeah, okay. I’m off at 7.”

Michael nodded and Alex looked so uneasy that he didn’t bother sticking around to talk, just walked back to his trunk and drove off to the small rectangle of land he was currently parking on, a sorry excuse for a home. Alex knew where to find him, though, and that gave it a sort of silver lining. 

He waited, drinking a beer he’d been given by someone days ago and stashed in the truck, trying to calm his nerves. He had decided, it didn’t matter what Max and Isobel said—he was going to tell Alex, and it was going to close this chasm widening between them, and it was going to be worth it, and Michael would stay afloat. 

Alex pulled up early enough that it was clear he’d come straight from work. Michael sat in the truck bed watching him approach. There was something off about Alex, something different, but Michael couldn’t put his finger on it, not when his mind was snarled with love and nerves and fear and anger and everything else. A big black tangle, that only Alex had ever been able to begin to unwind. He was going to tell him. 

“So what’s up?” Alex said, rubbing his palm against the metal wall of the truck bed like he wasn’t sure he was going to jump up next to Michael. That wasn’t a good sign, even if he did eventually nod and climb up. 

Michael took a deep breath and immediately hesitated, veering off from the direct words. “I’m teaching myself to play guitar again. Backwards, but still.” 

Alex smiled, but there was something like intense sadness under it. “That’s great, Michael.”

Michael swallowed. That wasn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for. He pulled the stolen guitar out from where it had been hiding under a blanket and lay the fretboard across his leg. “I want to show you, but—but  **there’s something you should know** . Something you need to know, first.”

“Actually, I’ve got something to tell you, too,” Alex cut in, rubbing his thumb across the threads of his jeans, the nail catching occasionally. He wasn’t wearing nail polish, Michael realized with a start. Or eyeliner. All of his piercings were just empty holes.

“Let me go first,” Michael said, suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. He didn’t want to hear whatever Alex was going to tell him, not at all; he thought his survival might depend on not hearing it. “Alex, you know I trust you, and I want you to know I’m—“

“I’ve decided to enlist,” Alex said, looking away and then back to Michael, his face set defiantly. “We decided. Last night, that it would be the best thing for me.”

Michael blanched, all of the words he’d spent the afternoon deciding on rushing out of his head. He must have heard wrong. “What the fuck do you mean?” His voice sounded angrier than he meant it to, more desperate, and Alex sighed and looked back down at his hands. Then the rest of the sentence hit Michael. “Who the fuck is ‘we’?”

“My dad and I. It’s—I made the right decision for me right now.”

“Like hell you did.” Michael banged his fist against the truck bed, the metal sound reverberating through the guitar with a discordant twang. Alex winced, closing his eyes, and Michael immediately wanted to take the angry gesture back. “I’m sorry.” He put his hand gently on Alex’s leg and Alex didn’t look at him, but didn’t flinch away either. “But…you hate that shit. What about your music? What about getting out of here?”

“I am getting out of here,” Alex retorted. 

“Not on your terms. Not like…” Michael paused to take a breath. It had occurred to him recently, that they could just leave, together—once Alex knew the truth, they could leave and protect each other, and Max could stay here and protect Isobel; it would be better for them to be spread out anyway. Michael hadn’t said it out loud yet, and certainly not to Alex, but he’d been harboring this fantasy deep inside him, and he could feel it slipping like water through his fingers now. “We could leave,” he said quietly, urgently. “Just hear me out and we can figure everything out, and you won’t have to—to fight in their wars.”

He could tell it wasn’t enough.

Alex scoffed, looking up at him again. “You’re talking about nothing, Michael.”

Michael could hear Max and Isobel’s words from earlier echoing in his bones, taunting him with how right they were. Michael felt stupid, like he’d been tricked into thinking this meant something, when Alex could just leave. Except, he didn’t think he’d really been tricked, he thought they were both drowning, both reaching out for something to keep them afloat. The issue was that thing for Michael was Alex, but for Alex, it wasn’t Michael. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, pleading, but trying to make his voice sound certain. Michael had been so sure, so sure, that telling Alex was the right thing; so sure that they were something different, that this was the first time in his life he wouldn’t be left behind. He hated himself for thinking that, for getting his goddamn hopes up.

“Grow up, Guerin,” Alex said sharply. Then he sighed, and when he looked back up at Michael he looked sad, regretful. But not enough to change anything. “I should go.” He slid off of the truck and started walking back to his car. 

“Alex! Wait!” Michael jumped down into the dirt, taking a few steps forward. He didn’t know if Alex wanted to be followed, and he couldn’t take more steps without the guarantee that he wouldn’t be running after someone who didn’t want to be chased. Alex turned around with his hand on the door of his car and smiled sadly at Michael, waiting for Michael to talk. He could still tell him, but it felt less like sharing a secret and more like throwing everything away for someone who didn’t even give enough of a shit to stay. “When do you leave?”

Alex shook his head. “Soon.”

Michael bit his lip, because he didn’t cry, and he didn’t show weakness, especially to someone who could hurt him. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said, eventually, and Alex nodded, still smiling that sad, tight smile. 

Michael watched him drive away, walking back over to the truck. He’d have to let Max and Isobel know that he hadn’t said anything after all, even if he hated telling them they’d been right. He felt like such an idiot for believing anything other than what they’d known their entire lives—it was just the three of them, and no one else was ever going to know him like Max and Isobel. Michael just had to get used to that. 

He slammed his fist against the side of the truck again, closing his eyes. Michael liked the noise it made when he hit the truck, the sympathetic echoing sound of the guitar, filled with the kind of chaos that was inside him. He picked up the guitar, considering it. He’d been so excited to show Alex the trick, and now it just felt stupid, trite and childish. He should be focused on getting himself out of Roswell, and not on what amounted to party tricks. 

The thought hung heavily over him, and Michael was suddenly so fucking angry at everything—at Alex, at Max and Isobel, at the whole situation that left him here, alone, like always, but this time for the long run. He wrapped his fist around the fretboard and slammed the stupid stolen guitar against the metal of the truck. Sharp splintering noises that sounded like everything he couldn’t say, as the guitar turned into shards of wood and string, until there was nothing left in his hand, until all Michael was filled with was an empty kind of sadness. 

He got back in the truck and drove to Max and Isobel’s house, pausing and then knocking on the door. Isobel answered, looking surprised. 

“Everything okay?”

Michael ignored the question. “I didn’t tell him. I just—I wanted you to know that I didn’t do it.”

Isobel looked like she was going to gloat about winning the argument, then she seemed to take in Michael’s appearance, and pulled the door open wider instead. “What happened?”

Michael smiled widely, humorlessly. “You were right. It wasn’t what I thought it was.” 

“Want to come in? Mom just served dessert.”

“No ‘I told you so, Michael’?” 

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not this time. Come inside?” 

Part of Michael wanted to be anywhere else than inserting himself, unwanted, into their happy family, but the other part knew that anywhere else he would go tonight would end up being worse, would end with him hurt or arrested or blacked out. He probably still would end up there, but at least he could put that off for a few hours. 

He nodded, and walked inside with Isobel, and wished that would be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on tumblr: [my rnm side blog](https://ineverlookavvay.tumblr.com) / [my main blog](https://margosfairyeye.tumblr.com)


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